He was never out of her mind.

And then he would spoil it all by writing her that he loved her and that of all the women in the world she was the only one.

And, reassured upon that point, Helen happily and promptly would forget all about him.
But when she remembered him, although months had passed since she had seen him, she remembered him much more distinctly, much more gratefully, than that one of the two hundred and fifty with whom she had walked that same afternoon.

Latimer could not know it, but of that anxious multitude he was first, and there was no second.

At least Helen hoped, when she was ready to marry, she would love Latimer enough to want to marry him.
But as yet she assured herself she did not want to marry any one.